


Something Irritating

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Something Extraordinary [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Angst, Ankle Cuffs, BDSM, Canes, Cock Cages, Dominance, Gags, Handcuffs, Hoods, Kneeling, Leashes, M/M, Manhandling, Masks, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Riding Crops, Saint Andrews Cross, Sounding, Spreader Bars, Submission, headphones, rated for later chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-03-31 08:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13970889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: Sherlock being Sherlock says something in fun that is taken the wrong way by his sub, Greg. It's going to take a lot to set things to right.





	1. What's in a Name

"Bored!" Sherlock yelled.

The detective was in the library when John found him, knocking books off the shelf as he went. "Sherlock, stop being a child."

"I'm not being a child. I'm being tortured by the slow passage of time whilst my brain is rotting away inside my skull. Greg's not even here to distract me."

The size of the house and John still couldn't let Sherlock rant like a toddler on his own. He chuckled dryly at the thought. "He's at work, doing his job."

"Which he is too bloody good at!"

John paused for a moment trying to work out what Sherlock meant. "And if he was bad at it… he would need you…"

"Well, yes, but then he'd be like the other idiots at the Yard." Sherlock threw himself down in a chair and sulked. "Don't twist my words around."

John laughed. "I'm not twisting anything, Sherlock, I think it's cute."

"And now you're patronising me!"

The doctor shook his head and settled in the chair opposite Sherlock's. "Why don't you get your violin?"

The detective shifted in his seat and crossed his arms. "No. I'm not in the mood. I. Want. A case."

"Well, you don't have one. Mycroft received some new stationary. Go burn it. You can study the ash."

Sherlock actually let out a laugh at that. "You're not going to threaten me for bullying your sub?"

"I would after." John's phone buzzed and his grin slid from his face, he was worried it was Mycroft, but the smile was soon back. He got up and ran to the door. "Come on, Sherlock, keep up, we have a case!"

"Remind me to have words with my sub. He shouldn't be texting you before he texts me."

John laughed. "Is your phone on, you berk?"

It wasn't, but the detective wasn't about to admit that. "Shut up."

"We'll never get a cab from here. We should have thought of that."

"I'll drive." Sherlock snatched up the keys. "You berk," he added as an after thought.

They climbed into the car and rushed to meet Mycroft. Greg would be meeting them there as well, having been called in by the elder Holmes.

John almost sighed in relief at being able to see Mycroft so soon after he'd left for work. His foot tapped and bounced the whole way out of the drive, through the iron gates and into the city.

Sherlock glanced at his friend. "I'm the one who normally does that."

"What?"

"Fidgets."

"Hm."

"Good lord, you're going into Mycroft withdrawal. How disgusting." Sherlock made a suitable face.

John poked his tongue out.

"Come on, John! It's been what? 2 hours since he left for work this morning."

"And we've had months being just the four of us. Or three of us when Greg went off to work."

"He was ready to go back. He needed to, just like I need to solve crimes."

John sighed. "I know that."

"What details did my brother send?"

"Nothing. The case is 'too sensitive.'"

Sherlock barked a laugh, as he pulled up at a set of lights. "You know what that means, don't you?"

"Hmm?" John glanced over at him, but Sherlock was staring out the window.

"It means, 'I miss you John come and play.'"

At that, John grinned. "Who am I to disappoint my precious sub?"

Sherlock snorted a laugh. "Don't make me ill with your overwrought sentiment."

"I'll try to remember you said that the next time you're snogging Greg like a teenager. Doesn't this car go any faster?"

"You can drive, if you want?"

"Just… hurry up."

* * *

They pulled up outside the Diogenes and were ushered into the building immediately by 4 of Mycroft's minions. When they were deposited in the government official's office, they found that Greg was already there.

"You got the quick escort, too, I see," the DI quipped. "I thought for one minute they were going to pick me up and run with me back here."

"Where's my sub?" John asked, looking in every corner of the office for him.

Mycroft appeared from out of nowhere. "Here, sir."

John wrapped his arms around him immediately. Mycroft looked over his head at his brother, confused. A quirk of Sherlock's eyebrow was all it took for the government official to understand. "I missed you, sir."

Sherlock spun on his toe and glared pointedly at his own sub.

Greg translated the silent message easily enough. "Yes, sir. I missed you too, sir. Now this is an emergency, if I'm correct?" He aimed his question at Mycroft.

"Unfortunately, yes." Mycroft stepped away from John and sat behind his desk. It was something they had agreed to. It was a reminder at times like this that, for the moment, he was in charge. He pulled up a few documents on his computer and shoved a file across the desk in Sherlock's direction.

The detective snatched the folder up immediately and threw himself back into the chair that faced Mycroft's.

Greg rolled his eyes, then looked at his fellow sub. "Since Sherlock's not likely to share anytime soon, would you mind telling me and John what's going on?"

Mycroft's face was grim. "It's a delicate situation. We can't have word of this getting out. A sub with good connections has been kidnapped."

"Good connections?" John questioned.

Greg walked around the desk. "How good?"

The doctor joined them as Mycroft brought up the details on the few computer screens dotted around the desk.

Greg gave a low whistle. The missing sub's Dom was high in the political system. "I can see why you want this kept quiet. Have any demands been made yet? Has there been any contact at all?"

"Not as far as I'm aware."

At that, Sherlock looked up. "Explain."

"The ambassador… he's, difficult to say the least."

"He's not talking to you," Sherlock deduced.

Mycroft gave the barest hint of a smile. "And he won't step foot outside his embassy. He claims he fears for his safety."

"With his ambassadorial immunity, you can't go in after him or force him to come out," Greg noted. "You can't even get a warrant for something like that."

Sherlock glanced towards the doctor, John was sat pondering.

"John?"

"When I was in Afghanistan, politics were the main problem. Greg's right, you can't go in all guns blazing…"

"Until?" Greg prompted.

"Well, until he comes out of his own accord or the embassy ditch him."

"Sherlock grinned. Then it's up to you and me, isn't it, John?"

The doctor groaned and covered his face.

"I didn't hear that," Greg said quickly, placing his hands over his ears.

"No, wait!" Mycroft interrupted Sherlock's near-skipping. "He's just not talking to me. It means he knows who did it or what they want. He is not a suspect in this. What would be your reason for wading in?"

"The fun! The challenge!"

John placed a hand on his friend's arm. "No, Sherlock. Listen to your brother. Mycroft, what do you have in mind?"

"Subtly perhaps?" He offered slightly snidely. "We - or rather you three need to follow all lines of enquiry. The ones we currently have. If they all draw a blank then we do it Sherlock's way."

"You may be in charge of this operation, but watch your tone, boy," John warned his sub. He'd put up with a lot of things, but he wouldn't be talked to like he had been when Mycroft had first kidnapped him so long ago.

Mycroft let his head duck. "I apologise, sir."

"Good."

Sherlock clapped his hands. "Right. Well I want to speak to the sub's brother."

"Of course," Mycroft agreed. "But go gently, little brother."

"What about me?" Greg asked.

"Go with John and Sherlock to lend them a sense of authority."

Sherlock shot bolt upright. "Mycroft!"

"Sherlock, the sub is a normal person. English. Who just happened to contract with an ambassador. They may be more likely to be cooperative, but if you throw your weight around the brother will clam up."

"Besides, I'm a sub," Greg pointed out. "That may put the brother at ease. At least, it may take the edge off you two. Is the brother a sub or a Dom?"

"Another sub," Mycroft replied.

"And what exactly are you planning on doing brother-mine?" Sherlock grumbled.

"Well, certainly not leg work, not unless it becomes imperative. I'll be pursuing leads from here." Mycroft gestured at his computer screens.

John nodded once. "Good boy."

Mycroft smiled softly.

The doctor was glad that his boy had listened to him. He supposed months of grounding would work on anyone.

"Right." John clapped his hands together. "Anything else?"

He needn't have asked, Sherlock had already headed towards the door. "Come along, John, Lestrade."

The DI made a point of clearing his throat.

Sherlock glanced over his shoulder. "What?"

"Why the hell am I suddenly Lestrade?"

"Oh, I don't know. We're back in the game. The adrenaline is pumping." Sherlock whirled around and walked backwards. "It makes it more real."

Greg didn't look impressed. "Sherlock, I'm your boyfriend! Your sub!"

"And?"

"Then bloody well treat me like that even with a fucking case!"

The detective stopped and waited for Greg to catch up, then he snagged him by the ear. "Then watch your language, boy, and don't tell me what to do."

Greg fought his way free of Sherlock's grip. "Then don't treat me like some guy you occasionally work with!"

Sherlock waited until they were out on the pathway. "That's two, Greg. I've started a tally. Don't make me add to it. We're taking Mycroft's car."

Greg threw himself into the backseat of the car, ignoring the detective. He didn't give a shit if this case was important. He hated the idea that Sherlock could revert back to a few years ago.

Sherlock caught sight of his sub as he glanced in the mirror, about to pull into traffic. "That's three. Now sit up and quit sulking."

Greg glanced out of the window for a while before he pulled his phone from his pocket, using it to prevent himself from glaring at the detective.

John huffed and climbed back between the seats. "What is it with you?" He asked the DI.

Greg turned and looked out the window.

"No, seriously," the doctor said, grabbing his arm.

"I'm not an acquaintance, I'm his sub. I refuse to go back to the 'Lestrade' crap he used to pull on me."

"Then tell him that."

"I just did!" He argued.

"I don't really think now is the time for this."

"Well, he only does it on cases!"

"Then don't let it get to you," John said reasonably.

"He's a right tosser. You watch, he'll keep doing it, no matter what I say, just like he used to."

Greg turned away from the doctor and didn't speak until they pulled up at the brothers'. He pulled his warrant card from his pocket and waved it in his face. "Detective Inspector Lestrade, this is Sherlock Holmes and John Watson."

He had put an emphasis on his own surname as a jab at his Dom. As a result, he could feel Sherlock's glare on the back of his neck, but he didn't care. He pushed ahead of the detective when the man stepped back to let them in and he certainly didn't wait for his Dom to sit down first.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed momentarily as he gazed at his sub, then he turned his full attention on the brother. He had more to think about than a sulky bratty sub.

***&&&

"What was all that about?" Sherlock snapped as he slammed the front door behind them.

John put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Don't do this here."

Greg just climbed into the car.

"If he wants to be treated like a sub, then why not do it here. I should have brought his collar, the bulky one, not his every day one. And you're up to 11."

Sherlock was rough as he forced the car into reverse.

"I don't care!" Greg snapped. "You can fucking count as much as you like."

The doctor groaned. This was turning into a cluster fuck and fast. He climbed into the back seat again, grabbed Greg by the scruff of the neck and shoved him to the floor.

The DI didn't even argue, just stared at the carpet. As he tried to kneel up John pressed his head down between his legs.

"Greg, calm down! Now, Sherlock, where are we going? Back to the club?"

The detective gripped the steering wheel tightly and glanced in the mirror. "Yes, back to the club. We have things to sort out before we continue."

He couldn't see his sub in the back, but he caught John's eye.

The doctor shrugged, he was as surprised by Greg's behaviour as Sherlock was.

The DI growled in frustration. In his opinion, it was Sherlock who needed sorting.

"None of that," John warned. "You're in enough trouble as it is."

"Why? Why is it me in trouble when he started it?!" He thrashed in John's grip and the doctor sighed.

The pair fought for a moment but John's army training paid off. Soon enough, Greg was laid out on the floor, one of John's feet at his neck and one arm pressed up his back.

"I'll say this once," John told the sub. "Sherlock called you 'Lestrade' exactly one time. You took that and blew it all out of proportion. Now. Be. Quiet."

Greg was quiet for the rest of the journey, but John didn't let him go.

When they arrived at the club, Sherlock climbed out the front, walked around the side of the car and grasped the DI by the collar. Then he shoved him towards the doors. "When we get a minute, we will be having words."

Greg stumbled, but managed not to fall. He ground his teeth together and entered the club with the two Doms on his heels. An escort closed in on them immediately and guided them to Mycroft.

"Did you find out anything useful, little brother?"

Sherlock slumped in the same chair as earlier. "He knows something. The whole family knows something. I wouldn't be beyond saying they know who took him."

"Ah, interesting." Mycroft leaned back in his chair, thinking. His gaze wandered over to Greg and he frowned. "Something's happened. Something with the potential to hamper this investigation." He turned his gaze upon his brother. "Ah, I see. Something you said has set Gregory off."

"Quite frankly I think anything anyone says at this moment will set him off."

Greg didn't look up from where he leant against the wall, arms folded.

"Do something about him," Mycroft said, waving a hand. "Neither you nor John hesitated to do something about me."

Greg's head shot up and he glared at his fellow sub.

"This is important, Mycroft. We need to get this man back unharmed. Gregory's attitude problem will wait."

"It's fine, little brother. I think I know who our kidnapper is. Take him home."

"I'm not going to miss out on the fun because of a misbehaving sub," Sherlock growled. He turned and faced Greg. "Get on your knees in the corner, boy."

Greg glared at him. "No."

Sherlock closed his eyes and walked towards him. "Get in the corner. Now."

"I am not-" Sherlock snagged him by the scruff of the neck as Mycroft interrupted.

"Sherlock, there's nothing you can do now. I think I know the suspect and the arrests will have to be done with my team. Go home. Take him with you."

"Do you hear that, boy?!" The detective gave Greg a shake. "I'm going to miss out on the rest of the case because you're in a sulk." He dragged the DI towards the door none too gently.

John sighed, kissed Mycroft quickly and followed the others out. He'd better lend a hand. Sherlock had with Mycroft, after all.


	2. Stubborn

"John, can you drive?"

"Sure." He caught the keys as they flew through the air. "You know, even if Greg was behaving. I doubt Mycroft would have needed us anymore."

"You can't know that. It was too easy. Mycroft didn't need us at all, really." Sherlock shoved Greg along ahead of him. "Doesn't that strike you as strange?"

"Maybe he wanted to spend time with you."

"With you, you mean. Get in," he hissed at Greg when they reached the back door.

"He was worried about going alone. I think I got through to him a few months back when I punished him for going off on one on his own."

Sherlock climbed into the car behind his sub, shoving Greg down into the floor. "I quit keeping a tally some time back. Now I'm just going to keep going until I feel better."

"Do what you want. You will anyway."

"Where are your handcuffs?"

The DI rolled his eyes. "This can be over quickly. Sir," he added sarcastically. "If you just tell me why you insist on treating me like an imbecile while we are on a case."

"Don't give me that, boy. If I thought you were an imbecile, I would never have worked with you for so many years before we contracted together." Sherlock rested his foot on Greg's back and left it there.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Sherlock was dragging the DI from the back of the car.

Greg certainly didn't seem bothered about Sherlock's anger and he wasn't bothered that he seemed to be making it worse either.

John followed the pair inside, bracing himself for a rough time ahead. He had a feeling Greg was going to be stubborn and make things hard on himself.

"So much for a decent case," Sherlock called out towards the doctor.

"Yeah, well at least we got out of the house."

John watched Sherlock drag the DI towards the play room. He shed his coat and tossed it to the side, then went to get himself something to drink.

Sherlock shoved Greg to his knees. "Are we going to talk reasonably or are you going to sulk for hours?"

Greg didn't reply.

"If you choose to sulk I will punish you and we will still have this chat."

"Oh, go ahead and chat away, Sherlock, since you're going to do it anyway.

The Dom spun on his heel and walked away, stopping to calm himself.

Greg stayed where he had been pushed to his knees and he made a point to look away from Sherlock.

When the detective had taken a few deep breaths he turned back towards the older man. The Dom went to Greg and grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look at him. "I can't believe you're acting like this over me calling you 'Lestrade'. It was meant fondly. Now go get on the bench."

Greg didn't respond to that, but he got to his feet and headed straight to the bench. He climbed up on it and laid down, not prepared to ask how the Dom wanted him.

Sherlock swiped up a riding crop and struck the DI across the arse just because of his pet's sheer stubbornness. It had only been his intention for them to sit and talk.

Greg didn't respond to the strike, and he didn't care that Sherlock had done it. He'd take whatever punishment Sherlock was about to dole out and then he'd hide alone in his office as soon as he could.

Sherlock watched for a reaction as the crop landed on his boy's arse and he didn't like what he saw. Tossing the crop aside, he scooped Greg up in his arms. He turned around and sat down, holding him. That got a reaction as the DI tried to get away. "Be still!" Sherlock snapped, but Greg wasn't listening.

"Get off! You wanted me on the bench, I got on the bloody bench!"

"Gregory, calm down!"

"So now I'm Gregory again?! When we're back here at the house where no one can hear." Greg kicked out with both feet. "Not too ashamed to acknowledge me here?"

Sherlock closed his eyes just as John appeared at the door.

Greg renewed his fighting, trying to force his way out of Sherlock's grip.

The doctor sighed. "Really, Sherlock, you had to go straight to this?"

"I was trying to talk to him and he went off on one." The detective redoubled his efforts at holding onto Greg.

"Talk. Ha!" The DI barked. "With a riding crop!"

"I gave you the option to talk, Greg, you were the one that ignored me and didn't respond. As for the riding crop, I struck you with it once and you're fully clothed. Now you are on my lap, not for want of trying."

"I think someone needs a time out," John observed, "just until his temper cools off a bit. Want me to help you with that?"

"Depends if he's going to keep fighting or not."

The DI fell still. He'd had enough of this.

The detective nodded in John's direction.

The doctor wasn't sure what to think. He could see that the DI was still feeling belligerent despite having stopped fighting. He didn't want to interfere just yet, he knew Sherlock well enough to know he was doing what he thought was right and what he thought was best for his sub at the time, but he stuck nearby because a horrible feeling set in his stomach that Sherlock might need his help.

After a few minutes of quiet, Sherlock loosened his grip on the DI just a bit. "Now then, you know good and well I'm not ashamed of you. How could I be? So stop acting like a child."

"I am not a child!" Greg hissed angrily.

"Then stop acting like it."

Greg just growled and glared at the doctor.

John held both hands up. "Hey, don't look at me. I don't understand what your problem is either. Sherlock's your Dom. He can call you Greg, Gregory, Lestrade, pet or 'hey you' for all it matters, he still loves you."  
  
John clearly didn't get it either. Greg had told Sherlock before how much it had used to annoy him when he was called Lestrade. Sherlock only did it now to annoy him, Greg was sure. And it had clearly worked.

Sherlock relaxed his grip even more. The moment the DI realised it, he lunged forward, breaking away. He made directly for the door, intending to find a place to be alone.

John stepped in the way. "I don't think so, mate."

"Move."

"No." Greg surprised himself when he swung a punch.

John caught his fist in his hand and forced him to his knees, his arm up his back. "Enough, Lestrade!" He barked, back in full army captain mode. "Give me your other arm. Right now!"

The DI complied and John grasped his other wrist.

"Right, so if you're in army mode, Lestrade is ok?" Sherlock growled.

"No!" Greg barked. "John never made a joke of it." He struggled for a moment, trying to get free, but stopped when he realised it was futile. He looked down at the floor.

Sherlock felt himself go deathly calm. "So you don't trust me, that's what it comes down to. You don't trust me not to be taking the piss, even though you're my sub. Do you really trust me to be your Dom?" He stood tall, then started to walk from the room.

Greg glared at the floor and it was John that called the detective back.

Sherlock froze where he was.

"Sherlock, go and get into your fatigues. He and I will wait here."

The moment Sherlock disappeared, John spoke low into Greg's ear. "I get that it used to piss you off, I do, but. Get. Over. It. That was then. I can't believe you've let it fester this whole time. Now get on your feet." He didn't let Greg disobey him just tugged him upright. He shoved him into the corner and slipped cuffs around his wrists. "Do you trust, Sherlock?"

"Of course I do!"

John snagged a hook that worked on the winch in the corner. He hooked the DI's cuffs to it and pulled his arms up into the air, then he walked out to join Sherlock getting changed.

Greg kicked at the wall in front of him. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he hated it when Sherlock called him Lestrade. He tried to calm himself down with no success and kicked the wall again.

John found Sherlock already fully changed, but sat on the edge of the large bed in their shared room.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop," John ordered. "He's just in a bad mood."

"I was an arse, back then."

"Hm, can't argue that mate, but you've changed. Oh, you're still a right arse, but never to Greg."

"Then why is he-"

"He's come to expect that you see him as his sub now. Not as some DI from the Yard that entertains him occasionally."

John wanted to shake Sherlock and Greg both. He could see his fellow Dom potentially falling into a black mood over this. "Come on, you need to go remind him that you're his Dom, prove to him that you see him that way all the time."

"I did it on purpose."

"What?"

"Didn't call him Greg." He ducked his head and sighed. He didn't speak as John dressed beside him. "But I didn't think it would upset him so much."

"Well, it did."

Sherlock shrank in on himself, feeling guilty, a feeling he hated and had only ever really experienced since meeting John.

"But in your defence. He hasn't reacted very well."

"I'm not going to punish him for that."

"Well you need to do something to ground him. I've left him tied in the playroom."

Sherlock walked into the playroom with a sense of trepidation. He'd decided that rope bondage was in order. It would provide Greg with a sense of security and hopefully ground him, as John had advised he needed.

Greg was in the corner, he hadn't been facing it when John had left him.

Sherlock could tell that because his boy had twisted in the cuffs until they were certainly uncomfortable. There was also 2 clear footprints on the wall.

The detective approached his sub, his face completely blank. He reached out to unbutton Greg's shirt, but the DI pulled away the small bit that he could into the corner. Sherlock's nostrils flared. Fine. It was all fine. He'd clearly need help when he uncuffed his boy to remove his jacket and shirt. "John!"

The doctor wasn't far away. He glanced at the look on Sherlock's face and then Greg's and could tell easily what had happened.

"I've got it," John said as he wedged himself behind Greg. The DI might be upset, but the doctor trusted him not to hurt him or Sherlock. He wrapped his arms around the sub. "Let's start with his trousers."

"No!" Greg struggled, for some reason, renewed hatred for his situation forced him to kick out.

Sherlock managed to get his shoes off and then latched onto his trouser legs and pulled.

"Ankle cuffs and a spreader bar," John suggested, "before we undo his wrists. I don't want him struggling too hard." One thing the doctor noted, Greg hadn't used his safeword, so all wasn't lost. That meant this was an attitude problem. An attitude that clearly needed adjusting. John tried to unbutton the DI's shirt when the detective moved away to find a spreader bar and Greg growled at him. "Sherlock, this has nothing to do with earlier. Not anymore. He's just in one of those moods."

When Sherlock returned, he took a moment to observe his sub. John was right, much to Sherlock's relief. He crouched down and started putting the ankle cuffs on his sub. Before long, he had the spreader bar in place. "In all honesty, we haven't had much trouble from him over the last few months. I haven't had to punish him properly in twice that long."

"All sub's do it. For one reason or another."

"I am here!" Greg yelled.

John winced, his ears almost ringing from the shout. "He's a bit loud," he observed.

"That can be fixed." Sherlock snatched up the nearest gag, a ball gag, and shoved it in Greg's mouth, then buckled it in place. He smirked at it, "You know, I was thinking the other day, that we should get rid of every gag that wasn't a ring or a fake cock."

"But these ones are so pretty." John tapped the ball in Greg's mouth with his index finger.

The DI just glared, his eyes smouldering.

"Right," John said. "Go ahead and lower his arms, slowly."

To both Doms' surprise, Greg didn't start struggling immediately. It was clear the DI was waiting for the opportunity because the second Sherlock unbuckled the cuffs to get to his shirt, he thrashed.

"Soldier!" John barked from behind him.

Greg went stiff and he stopped fighting. Sherlock moved fast and divested him of jacket, shirt and vest, then he cuffed him again.

"What was your plan?" John asked. "If you had one, that is?"

"I did. Shibari. Or some other sort of rope bondage. I don't know if he would stay still long enough for it to work, though."

"Winch him back up then," the doctor suggested. "Then start with sensory deprivation. When he's calmed down a bit, add in some sensory play with heat and ice. See if that works. It's a thought, anyway."

Sherlock nodded. "And then I can tie him up, yeah?"

John smirked at his enthusiasm. "If that's what you want to do to him after, then sure."

The detective's expression turned to a grin. "Just ice though, no heat. He likes heat."

John allowed himself a small, thin smile - black mood averted.

Sherlock winched his boy up so that he could stand without it causing undue strain on his shoulders, then he went and got the sound cancelling headphones and placed them over his ears.

Sherlock's glare stopped the muffled yelling and he reached down between his boy’s legs, grasping his cock. He pinched the head, squeezing his thumb and finger closer together until Greg completely stilled. "Damn, I'm an idiot."

John looked at Sherlock with surprise. "Why?"

"Forgot the mask."

"In all fairness, he has you rather distracted."

"I'm busy. Could you grab it?"

"Maybe you should stick a sound in that, stick a cage on his cock and use that to control him. A sharp tug of a metal rod in his cock is sure to make him stop fighting you."

That seemed an excellent idea. He'd attach a leash to the cock cage. That would definitely do the trick. Sherlock washed his hands thoroughly, then fetched the case of sounds and a cage, then set to work.

The DI's glare moved from Sherlock's head to John.

"Don't look at me like that, boy. You had this coming."

The doctor slipped the headphones off just long enough to slide the mask over Greg's eyes, then he replaced them. "Need a hand?"

"Nope." Sherlock had just closed the cage around Greg's cock. He quickly attached a leash to the tip and gave it a tug.

A hiss came from around the ball gag.

"We should call Mycroft. See how he's doing."

John nodded. "What about this one?"

"We'll go through to the other room. He can come with us."

Sherlock lowered his boy's arms and quickly uncuffed his hands from in front and reattached them behind.

It was slow going, as Greg's ankles were still attached to the spreader bar, but he didn't resist, not after the first tug of his leashed cock got him moving.

John walked behind the pair of them and helped steady the DI when he stumbled.

Sherlock led him through to the sitting room and shoved him to his knees by the sofa.

Greg breathed hard around the gag, whether from exertion or frustration, John couldn't tell.

The DI had actually done quite well. He had managed to keep up a decent pace through to where they were now sat considering he couldn't see or hear anything. That alone proved the trust in the room.


	3. Surrender

Sherlock dialled his brother using the speaker phone on the coffee table so both he and John could talk to him.

The first thing Mycroft asked when he answered their call was how Greg was doing. As a fellow sub, he felt a deep connection with the DI, not that he approved of Greg's earlier behaviour.

Sherlock sidestepped the question. It wasn't like his sub was aware of what was going on, even if he had worked out what part of the house they were in. 

"Was it the guy you thought it was, pet?" John asked. 

"No, sir. But we have a lead and I am trying to locate the sub now. If he's found within the next hour, I should be home on time."

"That's wonderful!" John exclaimed, his whole face lighting up. "But you are staying out of it?"

"Yes, sir. I'm leaving everything to my team."

"Good, pet. I'll be glad to have you home."

Sherlock made a gagging sound at the flood of sentiment.

"Shut up, little brother."

Rather than get uptight, Sherlock laughed. "It's strangely odd having you behaving, Mycroft."

"I behave all the time, little brother. Sometimes I behave better than at others."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Don't be pedantic."

John snorted. "Look who's talking."

"And as for your behaviour, pet, don't push your luck. I believe you've just had a three month extended holiday."

"Yes, sir."

"I could make it 4 months."

"No, sir. Sorry, sir."

John glanced over and saw that the DI had leaned forward and rested his head on the sofa. He seemed a bit calmer, but the doctor didn't trust it at all. "Anyway, pet, call us as soon as you know something." They said their goodbyes and rang off.

Sherlock reached his hand out and gripped his boy by the cock cage. He gave it a sharp tug forward and Greg let out a broken whimper. Grasping Greg's arm, Sherlock pulled his boy against him and wrapped his arms around him. Though the DI held himself stiffly, he didn't actively resist. Sherlock pressed his lips to the top of the hood and then rested his cheek on it. 

John smiled. "That wasn't difficult." He nodded in Greg's direction, aware the sub couldn't hear them. 

"Let's give him a bit more time before we declare the battle won." Sherlock stood and helped Greg to his feet, then, with a tug on the leash, headed back to the playroom.

"Mycroft better find that sub," John called after him. "Because I am going to pummel his arse if he isn't home on time."

"He'll like that," Sherlock countered.

John stood and stretched, then followed after Sherlock and Greg. When he reached the playroom, he found the detective leading him around the room, the hood still on him, testing his trust.

It soon became exhausting for the DI. It was difficult enough walking with the spreader bar, but the ball gag made his breathing sound ragged.

Sherlock finally stopped. With one hand on Greg's arm and the other on his shoulder, he indicated that his sub should go to his knees. He supported him as he sank to the floor.

"Do you reckon his attitude's vaporised yet?" John asked with a slight chuckle. 

The DI was quite comical knelt there without being able to see or hear.

"He appears to be thinking much more clearly," Sherlock observed. He loosened the ties on the hood, then pulled it off, watching as Greg blinked at the sudden exposure to the light. As soon as he could see properly, he glared up at his Dom. "Apparently not." Sherlock tugged the hood back on, tightening it up.

"He's just in a bad mood, mate. You'll know what he'll be like when he comes through the other side of it."

"I don't accept excuses from my sub." Sherlock grasped Greg by the neck and turned him towards John. "Crawl to him," he ordered in a stern tone of voice.

The DI refused to move. He'd already been paraded around the room like some dog at Crufts, he wasn't about to continue.

Of course, Sherlock wasn't going to accept that. He shoved his disobedient sub over face first. If Greg had snapped his safe signal that would have been different. 

The sub grunted as he hit the floor. 

"Move, boy," Sherlock ordered sharply. "Now!"

With his hands cuffed behind him, it was almost impossible, but Greg managed it, moving towards the other Dom one inch at a time.

Sherlock reached down and pulled him upright. "Move quicker."

At that, the DI put his foot down, refusing to move at all.

Taking him under the arm, Sherlock dragged him over to John. "Do something with him. Put him on the cross."

Greg kicked out. Sherlock just sighed and grabbed it. 

"Think very carefully, boy. You can't possibly win.” He held his foot so high, he was pressed into the ground again, his other foot hanging awkwardly.

John tutted, then he stood and grabbed the dangling ankle and together the Doms dragged him towards the cross.

Greg grumbled and thrashed as John unravelled the buckles of the cuffs hanging from each corner. When everything was ready, the blond nodded at Sherlock who uncuffed the DI. Together, they lifted him to the cross and buckled his wrists in place. He fought for a moment and then gave up as he sensed the two Doms backing away. 

"John?"

The doctor turned at the sound of his sub's voice and the slamming of the front door. "In the playroom, babe!"

When the government official entered the play room, he stopped in his tracks. "What did he do?" he asked out of curiosity.

John's eyes widened. "None of your concern, pet. On your knees."

Just out of natural obedience, Mycroft dropped to the floor. 

"Case finish well?"

"Yes, sir." It felt right and good to be kneeling in front of his Dom and giving him news of his success. So much so that he found himself beaming up at John.

John pushed his hand into Mycroft's hair and smoothed it down. "Get undressed, pet."

With another grin, Mycroft shed his suit. He folded his clothes neatly and handed them to John who had his hands out waiting for them.

"Good job, pet," the doctor said as he set the clothes on a nearby table.

Mycroft wanted to glance over at his brother, at Greg, but he didn't. He was determined to stay out of trouble. There was far too much of that going around.

Sherlock shot an approving glance his brother's direction, then he went back to removing the spreader bar from Greg. His sub was still acting out so he had to work fast. Whilst he cuffed his boy's ankles in place, John was busy playing with Mycroft's thinning hair. Stepping back, Sherlock eyed Greg spread out on the cross in satisfaction. His boy would be suitably helpless and available for punishment this way.

John crouched down beside his pet. "Want to play or cuddle?"

"Play, sir. Please. For now."

The doctor nodded once. "Was hoping you'd say that," he leant forward and nipped on his ear, distracting the kneeling man as he reached around and cuffed his wrists behind his back real quick.

When John sat back on his heels, his tongue darted out and swept across his bottom lip. Mycroft looked absolutely tasty and they had barely begun. He smacked his thigh. "If you are going to watch Greg I will tie you in the corner facing the wall."

The sub jerked his eyes back to John immediately. "I'm sorry, sir." He honestly hadn't meant to let his eyes stray. 

The Dom clearly knew that, because if it had been deliberate he'd be over his knee already. "I want your blue eyes on me at all times," John said, running a thumb just under Mycroft's right eye, then down along his cheek. "Unless, of course, I choose to blindfold you later."

"Yes, sir."

John pressed his lips to his sub's, he kiss started slow, but soon the younger man got possessive and bit Mycroft's lip between his teeth. The government official shuddered violently in reaction. It felt to amazing to surrender to John like this and forget about his responsibilities for a bit.

On the cross, Greg had finally ceased to struggle. Sherlock didn't trust it though. He suspected his boy was only taking a few moments to rest. He placed his hand on Greg's stomach and let it rest there for a bit.

Sherlock watched his sub carefully for a moment, then glanced over at John and his brother. It appeared Mycroft had stopped trying to look over at them instead and was choosing to focus on the doctor. Good. The last thing they needed was two misbehaving subs. Abruptly, Sherlock slapped Greg's side. "Are you ready to talk reasonably?" he asked as he watched closely for a sign in the affirmative.

Greg was still enough that Sherlock took it as a yes. 

"John I may or may not need your help in a moment."

With great reluctance, the doctor pulled his mouth away from Mycroft's. "I'm on my way." He ran his thumb over his pet's lips. "Wait for me like a good boy." He stood up and joined Sherlock in front of the cross.

Mycroft whimpered pathetically and John glared at him. "You get one warning boy. You've had it." He snatched off the hood and Greg blinked a few times, then he dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Boy, look at me," Sherlock ordered.

Greg shook his head realising how much of an idiot he had been. He had no idea what had gotten into him but whatever it was he was ashamed of it.

Sherlock grasped him by the chin and forced him to meet his eyes. He was pleased by what he saw there. "So, you realise how ridiculous you were being. I love you, Greg. I would never make fun of you. Because of the three of you, I'm not that man anymore." He released his grip and Greg hung his head. Sherlock didn't know what to do. He still felt as though his sub needed punishment, but he wasn't sure he had the heart to do it.

John pulled him aside. "You cant let his behaviour go unpunished Sherlock, despite what you feel right now."

"How did you-"

"Have you met my sub?" John laughed. "Have you completely forgotten the last few months?"

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

Sherlock bit his lip. "Do you think the cane is enough?" he asked, feeling uncharacteristically unsure.

John just stared him down. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes in response. "Fine."

At that, John pushed the detective towards his sub. 

"Pet, look at me," Sherlock ordered again.

This time Greg complied instantly.

"I'm going to remove the gag, let you down, then you're going to go lay over the bench. I have to punish you for acting out, so you'll get 15 strikes with the cane. Do you understand?"

The DI nodded.

"I don't want to hear a sound from you," the detective said as he removed the gag. He was pleased when his boy didn't say a word.

Together, the two Doms got Greg off the cross. They also removed the other bits of gear before the sub was sent to the bench.

The doctor returned to Mycroft whilst Sherlock went and selected a cane. He chose a thick, unforgiving one. When Greg noticed it, he winced, but stayed quiet. Sherlock waited to see if he would get some argument or aggressive response, but Greg just seemed resigned.

Reaching out, the Dom ran his hand over his pet's arse, gave it a squeeze, then let his hand fall away. "Count for me, boy. That's the only sound I want to hear." He drew the cane back, then let it fall directly over Greg's sit spot.

The DI was incredibly close to yelping out loud, but he managed to control himself by biting his lip, however that also meant he couldn't count.

"Problem boy?" the Dom asked.

"Sir, I can't count without risking making other noises. I'm sorry sir."

Sherlock gripped his sub by the hair and yanked his head back. 

"What was that?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Greg's repeated whisper turned into a sob. It made Sherlock glance at John for help.

The doctor shrugged. "I'd settle for making him count, but make him add a thank you since he can't manage himself." 

"Did you hear that boy?"

Greg tried to nod. “Yes, sir." He was snivelling like a baby, as he tried not to completely breakdown in tears.

"Good. Let's try that again." Sherlock swung the cane without warning, striking just below the red welt that was already there.

This time Greg yelped, then said in a shaky voice, “One, sir. Thank you, sir." He wanted nothing more than for that to be two, but Sherlock always made him count, if he didn't, it didn't count. He hated that, but it was the way it always was. 

At each strike, the DI counted and said, "Thank you, sir." It got more and more difficult to stay in place, but he managed it.

Sherlock was struggling to keep going when he reached 13 strokes, but he knew he had to. He wanted nothing more than to grab his sub up in his arms and squeeze him tight. 

By the time the last two strikes had been delivered, Greg was sobbing. His arse and upper thighs hurt like fire and he still felt guilty.

"Babe, look at me."

This time Greg didn't move, he was feeling too sorry for himself. 

When Sherlock glanced over at the doctor he spotted his friend distracted with Mycroft. He didn't want to interrupt, not again. Instead, he fetched some arnica cream himself then knelt down behind his pet. With loving care, he kissed each welt, then he rubbed cream into Greg's arse and thighs. "You took your punishment so well, babe. I'm so proud of you."

Sherlock found it incredibly annoying how he always seemed to know what John needed to do with his brother and that the other Dom always seemed to know what he should be doing with Gregory.

As if John had heard his thoughts, he turned and looked his way, mouthing 'cuddle him' in Sherlock's direction.

The detective didn't have to be told twice. He gathered his pet up in his arms, carried him to a nearby chair and settled with him gingerly on his lap. He hugged Greg and soothed him with both words and gentle touches until his boy calmed and drifted to sleep.

"I know what you're thinkihi,” John said, dragging Mycroft over by the hand. 

"No you don't."

"We could swap," John snorted. "But I love Mycroft far more than I could love Greg."

Sherlock glanced at his brother. "Same. Even if he wasn't my brother, I couldn't do it." He held Greg tighter. 

John sat down and pulled Mycroft to his lap. "So we'll keep doing what we do."


End file.
